


Changing Beauty

by charlottepriestly



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F, Family Fluff, Short One Shot, i'm just a soft gay doing her best, someone pls send help i can't stop writing, this is meh but oh well
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:28:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24092116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charlottepriestly/pseuds/charlottepriestly
Summary: Societal issues hit a little too close to home sometimes.
Relationships: Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs
Comments: 57
Kudos: 241





	Changing Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> One of the things that never sat well with me about the film is Miranda's attitude regarding women's bodies. Calling Andy fat and other small comments like that. I feel like this mostly speaks to the time the film was made, because in my mind Miranda would be all over the recent feminist movement of plus-sized models.  
> Anyways, thinking about it inspired me to write this little one-shot, I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> thanks to my incredible beta elle who has to put up with all my shit
> 
> Warning: this has some non-graphic discussions of eating disorders.  
> I don't have personal experience, but I know it is not easy to get through. So to anyone going through something like this: you are loved, you are valid, you are important no matter what. Keep going ❤

“Cass, you look fine. There’s nothing wrong with your body.”

Miranda froze outside the girls’ room. She’d come to say goodnight when the words drifted through the slightly-ajar door. She could do nothing but stand there, listening intently despite the dreadful, sinking feeling in her abdomen.

“Easy for you to say,” Cassidy replied, and Miranda could see her analysing herself in the full length mirror through the gap in the doorway. “You look good in literally everything you wear. You have a flat stomach! I have stomach rolls, my thighs are huge, I have stretch marks everywhere, and my arms look fat when I wear short sleeves. I’m hideous."

“You're not. Stomach rolls are perfectly normal, and so are stretch marks. And your arms don’t look fat. Most people don’t look like all the hollywood celebrities. It doesn’t _mean_ anything, Cass. It’s okay not to be stick thin.”

“Whatever,” Cassidy mumbled.

Miranda stood back when Cassidy turned around, a scowl upon her youthful features. There was a sharp pain in Miranda’s chest that made it hard to breathe. She could not believe that her daughter - her beautiful, precious daughter - would think such things about herself. How long had it been going on? How long had Cassidy hated her body without Miranda noticing? 

Now that Miranda thought about it, Cassidy had been skipping meals due to endless excuses and claiming she would eat “later”. There were days where she barely ate anything for dinner save a piece of fruit, and she had demanded Miranda let her sign up to the gym which she visited almost every day.

She felt nauseous as her world suddenly tilted on its axis. Her baby had been suffering for God knew how long, and Miranda hadn’t even noticed, too preoccupied with work and a million other things.

Making her way towards the bedroom, Miranda tried to fight back tears. She shut the door behind her and lifted a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle a sob.

“Miranda?” Andrea appeared from the en-suite bathroom, her expression full of worry as she approached. “Honey, what’s wrong?”

Miranda opened her mouth, but the words died in her throat. The anguish in her chest did not relent, its claws buried so deeply that it was a physical ache.

“Come on,” Andrea said, and carefully led her to the bed, making Miranda sit before handing her a glass of water. “Drink. There, that’s better. Now take a deep breath.”

She did as she was told, relieved beyond measure that Andrea was here. They’d been together for five years now, and Miranda had experienced more moments of gratefulness for the younger woman than she could count. She knew she could rely on Andrea for anything. She always knew what to do or say to soothe Miranda’s pain.

“It’s Cassidy,” she croaked, and Andrea kneeled on the floor before her to grasp her hands in hers. “I think she has an eating disorder.”

Andrea inhaled sharply. When Miranda looked at her, the devastation in Andrea’s face broke her heart all over again. A moment of silence passed between them as Andrea seemed to contemplate Miranda’s words, going through the past several weeks in her mind and coming to the same conclusion as Miranda had.

“It’s okay,” she whispered after long moments. She squeezed Miranda’s hands in an attempt at comfort, but all Miranda felt was self-loathing.

“It’s not okay, Andrea,” she snapped. “Don’t you see? This is my fault!”

“What?” Andrea reeled back, blinking up at her.

“I’ve created this- this image of female beauty. I’ve published thousands of magazine issues exhibiting a specific body type. I’ve always been accused of being an anti-feminist for that, for having these ‘ideals’ of beauty that I don’t personally believe in. Young women shouldn’t aspire to that. It’s all air-brushed nonsense, a body type that makes it easier to showcase clothes. And now my baby is- is--”

Her eyes began to sting again, blurring her vision until Andrea’s face disappeared behind the sheen of tears. She lowered her head in shame, feeling like the awful, neglectful parent she’d been said to be so many times. What kind of mother would make her children believe they were hideous? What kind of mother wouldn’t notice her child was suffering with an eating disorder?

“Hey, no, come on, Miranda,” Andrea said. She cupped Miranda’s cheek in her palm, lifting her face until they were able to look at each other again. “That’s not true. This isn’t your fault. Do you know how many other influences there are in Cassidy’s life? There are Instagram models and influencers and actresses and singers all encouraging these ideals. It’s not your fault. You’re not responsible for the ideals that an entire industry has been following long before you were even born.”

No matter how much she wanted to believe Andrea’s words, no matter how true it was that Cassidy had more influences than just Miranda, it did not take away the fact that Miranda was her _mother._

“And before you say anything else, I’m just gonna go ahead and tell you that I didn’t realise what was happening either. These things can be hard to tell. It’s okay that we didn’t notice. What matters is that we know now, and we can help her.”

Miranda nodded. She knew she needed to take action, to make things better for her daughter. She just needed some time to process her grief and guilt first. She pulled Andrea off the floor and wrapped her arms around her middle, burying her face in Andrea’s soft stomach. Fingers started gently combing through her hair as Andrea stepped between her legs, running her left hand in soothing circles over Miranda’s back.

Despite feeling fragile and lost, Andrea’s embrace made Miranda feel less alone.

.oOo.

Miranda was hyper-aware after that evening. She kept an eye on Cassidy’s behaviour, wondering how on earth she hadn’t noticed how her cheekbones were more defined, the circles under her eyes more pronounced. She couldn’t stop analysing all the models shown in The Book, wondering whether it was truly necessary to show clothes in these sorts of bodies and none others. She spent hours and hours researching eating disorders, the causes and symptoms and courses of action.

Every evening she came home and hugged Cassidy extra tightly. No matter how much she wanted to talk to her about the issue, she’d learned that trying to force someone to talk about their eating disorder could only worsen the situation. And she knew Cassidy did not handle confrontation well, she always went on the defensive, much like her mother did. So, Miranda had simply taken to hugging her daughter at any given chance, revelling in the contact despite how frail her baby felt in her arms. In response to this behaviour, Cassidy gave her contemplative looks, as if trying to work out whether Miranda knew or not.

During the quiet nights, safe in the privacy of their bedroom, Miranda would talk to Andrea about all her fears. They discussed all they had learned regarding self-esteem and eating disorders, and Andrea continued to try to diffuse Miranda’s all-consuming guilt. Even though Miranda still felt partly responsible for her daughter’s health issues, Andrea’s words helped, especially when they were murmured against Miranda’s neck when they were curled up together in bed.

Less than a week after Miranda had overhead her daughters’ conversation, she decided to make some changes. After calling a meeting with the entire Art Department and laying down the law, Miranda felt ten times better. 

For the next month, Miranda worked relentlessly on the new _Runway_ issue, ignoring Irv’s explosive arguments and all confounded reactions she received from every photographer, designer, and modelling agent she had to deal with. She worked overtime almost every day, and Andrea sometimes looked at her with a thoughtful, puzzled expression. She always knew when Miranda was up to something, but Miranda wanted to keep this one quiet until the publication date, so Andrea was left to try to figure out what Miranda was working herself raw over.

After four weeks of late nights, hectic photoshoots, crammed interviews, and almost constant headaches, the issue was sent to print. Miranda gave a deep sigh of relief, and made one final demand regarding the issue that had been put to rest merely five minutes ago.

“Emily,” she called, and her second assistant - Grace or Gabrielle or Gloria something - rushed into her office. “I want a copy of the issue the moment it’s printed, understood? Have it on my desk before I leave for the evening. I’ll be going at six.”

Watching the woman scatter away was highly amusing, and Miranda was tempted to laugh. Despite the hectic month she’d had, she found herself in a wonderful mood. Almost buoyant, by her standards. She spent the rest of the afternoon feeling as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

When she got home that evening, she didn’t stop to leave her coat and bag at the entrance as she usually did. Instead, she followed the sounds of soft voices, making a beeline for the living room. 

“Hi, mom,” the girls greeted her, sitting on the floor and doing homework on the coffee table.

“Hello Bobbseys,” she murmured with a small smile.

She placed her things on the arm of the sofa before lowering herself onto the plush cushions beside Andrea, sinking into the younger woman’s side with a deep sigh. Goodness, she was tired. Thank God it was the weekend. She was going to spend the entire Saturday curled up with Andrea, and she was damned well going to sleep in to her heart’s content.

“Hey, you,” her lover said, wrapping her arm around Miranda’s middle and pulling her closer. Miranda buried her face in the soft neck that smelled divinely of sweet ambrosia. “Long day?”

Miranda hummed, finally feeling the tension she’d been carrying around leave her strained back muscles. Maybe she’d ask Andrea for a massage later...

“Wasn’t today your print deadline?” she asked, running her fingers through Miranda’s hair.

“Yes,” Miranda answered, all but purring at the ministrations. “I brought a copy.”

She got the issue out of her bag and plopped it onto the coffee table before them, making sure the cover faced the girls. Cassidy glanced at it with disinterest, but once the cover caught her eye, she sat up straighter. Miranda carefully watched her as she took the issue and flicked through it with avid interest and a lot of surprise.

Andrea looked at her sideways, and Miranda could see the silent question in her eyes. A warm, tentative smile was Andrea’s response. Miranda didn’t really know what to expect from this. She couldn’t predict Cassidy’s reaction to what Miranda had done with her magazine - and by extent, the entire fashion industry - but she fervently hoped that it would help.

She had broken the glass ceiling several times in her career, but never quite like this. The cover featured pop singer and songwriter Lizzo, draped beautifully over an antique loveseat and surrounded by stick-thin mannequins. Her interview discussed how her empowering lyrics promoted self-love and self-esteem, especially to women of colour that have been misrepresented and mistreated for far too long. 

The rest of the issue was filled with photoshoots and interviews with feminist icons like Serena Williams, Janelle Monae, Jameela Jamil, Leslie Jones, Melissa McCarthy, Precious Lee, and many others. They spoke about western beauty standards, how damaging they were to women, and the fashion industry’s involvement in that culture. They gave inspirational advice and heartening personal experiences in how to overcome the self-hate that came with constantly comparing oneself to hyper-edited photographs of “perfect beauty”.

The photos throughout the magazine were some of the most magnificent Miranda had seen up to date. Women of all shapes and ethnicities wore the clothes just as beautifully as any “standard” model, and Miranda wondered why on earth the fashion industry was so adamant that thin models were the only way to exhibit fashion. She was self-aware enough to know that she herself had not really questioned it, but that had changed now. 

This issue would be groundbreaking. Miranda knew that due to her influence, magazines, photographers, modelling agencies, and designers everywhere would start to incorporate some variety in how they displayed women. The fashion industry was never going to be the same again.

But the most important thing was right in front of her. Miranda waited as patiently as she knew how while she watched Cassidy go through the issue. She began to fidget slightly, pulling at Andrea’s fingers as she clasped a warm hand in hers. Andrea let her, looking at her with amused interest.

Finally, Cassidy finished reading. She placed it on the table and looked up at Miranda. Blue eyes so like her mother’s were glistening with awe. Miranda’s heart squeezed in her chest as her eldest daughter by twelve minutes stood from the floor, rounded the table, and threw herself into Miranda’s arms. She closed her eyes, pulling her darling girl tighter against her, nuzzling the vanilla-scented hair at the top of her head.

“Thank you,” Cassidy mumbled against her shoulder, and Miranda felt her throat close up with emotion.

With a glance over Cassidy’s head, Miranda saw Andrea gazing at her with loving eyes, a warm, tender smile upon her face as she watched the heartwarming scene unfold. Miranda released a shaky sigh, grateful for all the love in her life.

“My beautiful, perfect girl,” she whispered, and kissed Cassidy’s forehead. “I love you.”


End file.
